


RISE

by bangyababy



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Breaking Up & Making Up, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Getting Back Together, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Music, M/M, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Personal Growth, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson Friendship, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Has Issues, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, mentions of vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:08:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25657942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bangyababy/pseuds/bangyababy
Summary: “I don’t need you to be sorry!” Steve shouted. “I need you to love me and fight for this.”Bucky’s smile was watery. “I do love you Steve, but I can’t fight for this, not anymore.”Or: In order to come together, you have to fall apart first.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 33
Kudos: 164
Collections: Marvel Undercover 2020





	1. 눈,코,입 (Eyes, Nose, Lips)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic in three parts all based on/inspired by songs from Taeyang's RISE album. The lyrics that start and end each part are all from the songs of the chapter title. 
> 
> Okay, so this is something that I have wanted to write for SO LONG. It is completely self-indulgent so I hope at least one other person likes it lol.
> 
> Thank you so so so so much to my beta without whom this story wouldn't be half as good.

_“Smile like nothing’s wrong  
_ _So when I miss you I can remember  
_ _So I can draw your face in my mind”_

“I don’t need you to be sorry!” Steve shouted. “I need you to love me and fight for this.” 

Bucky’s smile was watery. “I do love you Steve, but I can’t fight for this, not anymore.”

Steve pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at Bucky smiling like that at him anymore. 

“Why the fuck not? After everything we’ve been through, Buck, after as many times as we’ve lost each other how can you just walk away like this?” 

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said again. 

Steve looked up and now Bucky wasn’t smiling anymore. Instead, he was crying, eyes trained on the ground.

“No, no.” Steve stood and moved to Bucky, grabbing him by the face, forcing their eyes to meet. “Don’t cry, Bucky, please, we can work this out. I’m sorry, for whatever it is that I did, or didn’t do, I’m _sorry._ Please, please, I love you. Please don’t cry.” 

Bucky’s hands came up to cover Steve’s and the tears that Steve had been holding back began to fall. 

“I’m sorry, Steve, I’m so sorry,” Bucky whispered, leaning into the touch briefly before pulling Steve’s hands off his face. 

“Bucky, please.” Steve’s voice cracked when he looked into Bucky’s eyes. 

Bucky gave him one last tearful smile, whispered goodbye, and left Steve standing in the living room. Steve heard the front door open and shut, and suddenly he couldn’t breath.

For the second time in his life, he felt like the serum was failing him. His tears turned to sobs, big heaving cries that stuttered out of his chest, painful and wet. He collapsed back down onto the couch and buried his face into his hands, trying to get ahold of himself and figure out what the fuck had just happened. 

But it was like every thought came in staticky and nothing made sense, the harder Steve tried to think about it the fuzzier his mind got, eventually falling into a fitful sleep. 

  
  
  


When Steve woke up, it was dark in the apartment. For a moment he could pretend like everything was normal. That Bucky was simply in the other room and soon he’d come out and smile at Steve, sit on the edge of the couch and kiss him. But the apartment was too quiet, too still, and the illusion was shattered all too soon. He stared up at the ceiling, replaying the last few hours. 

The morning had been normal, as far as Steve was concerned. He had gotten up to train with the new recruits, leaving Bucky to sleep in. When he got back Bucky hadn’t been home, which wasn’t unusual, so he had taken a shower. What _was_ unusual was that Bucky’s stuff had been missing from the shelf. But he hadn’t thought much of it, figuring Bucky was making room for new things. 

But when Steve went to get his clothes and found most of Bucky’s gone, he realized something was really wrong. 

Thinking Bucky had somehow reverted back to the Soldier, Steve had frantically gotten dressed. He’d been trying to call Bucky when Bucky had walked in. 

Relieved to see Bucky was okay, Steve had immediately hugged him, and Bucky had clung to him like he’d never get to do it again. Of course, it made sense now, but at the time…Steve had no idea what was happening. 

But then one of his worst fears came true. Bucky told him he was leaving and Steve couldn’t do anything to stop him. Steve had asked what was going on so many times, but all Bucky could say was that he was sorry, that he still loved him. 

But if Bucky was sorry and loved him, why would he leave? Was someone threatening him? Did he think he needed to protect Steve? None of it made any sense. 

They had been through so much, the depression, hiding their relationship in the 30s and 40s, Steve’s sickness, two wars, countless battles, Hydra, over 70 years apart, Bucky’s brainwashing, death...how could Bucky just leave after all of that? They had fought so hard to get back to each other through time _and_ space. 

Maybe it was _too_ much. Maybe Bucky was tired of looking at Steve and being reminded of every shitty thing that had ever happened to him, especially when so many of those things were Steve’s fault. 

Finally deciding to brave his phone, he saw he had two missed calls, one voice mail, and seven text messages. Nothing was from Bucky. 

Both calls and the voicemail were from Sam. Two of the text messages were work related, two were from Sam, and the last was from Natasha. Sam’s voicemail and texts all said some variation of _let me know when you’re ready to talk_. Steve didn’t question how Sam knew, because the text from Natasha explained enough. 

_Bucky’s staying with me. Give him some space._

He reread the message five times. By the sixth, he was shaking with rage. 

Natasha was supposed to be _his_ friend. Not that she wasn’t Bucky’s friend, but Steve had thought if something went down, Natasha would choose him. But obviously, she hadn’t. He knew it was a stupid, selfish, childish thought, but he couldn’t help it. First that Bucky would even go to her in the first place and second that Natasha wouldn’t even ask how he was doing? They were supposed to be friends for fuck sake and she couldn’t even take the time to tell him she was sorry? Just a message for him to stay away on _Bucky_ ’ _s_ behalf. 

Steve set the phone down before he broke it. He couldn’t think about Natasha or Sam right now. He didn’t want to think about _anything_ right now. 

So he went to the bedroom and pulled on some running pants and his shoes. He headed out the door with his headphones turned up so loud that it hurt his ears. He ran until the sun came up, and when it did, he went home and passed out for approximately 12 hours. When he woke up, he ignored the new messages on his phone, downed a protein shake, and pulled his shoes back on. And so it went.

He ran, he slept, he got the necessary amount of calories to keep his body going, and he tried not to think of Bucky. But on nights when he couldn’t sleep, when his mind would start to whisper _I told you so_ and _you did this_ , Steve pushed the thoughts away and pulled out his sketch pad. At first, he pretended like he was drawing something random, but every single sketch turned into Bucky. Smiling, laughing, cooking, dancing, singing, _happy_. 

On the sixth day of his new reality, he was awoken by a loud banging on his door. Steve stumbled to answer it, hoping it was Bucky, but knowing it wasn’t. 

“Jesus man,” Sam sighed when Steve opened the door.

“Hello,” Steve said stiffly. 

Sam pushed into the apartment. “What stage is this?” 

“Somewhere between denial and depression.” 

“That’s fair,” Sam said. “And not that this isn’t to be expected, but we’re worried about you. We want to be there for you, but you have to let us.” 

“We?” Steve’s eyebrow quirked up. 

“Me, Wanda, Natasha-” 

Steve snorted and Sam blinked at him, taken aback. 

“Natasha’s not worried about me,” Steve growled. “She’s worried that I’ll come breaking down her door and bother Bucky.” 

Sam looked confused and when Steve didn’t elaborate said, “Man, what the hell are you talking about?” 

“She’s always been protective of him,” Steve glowered, plopping onto the couch. “Thinks she knows him better because of the Red Room. Thinks she knows what’s best for him.”

“Or she just understands what he’s been through?” 

“You know what she sent me right after it happened?” Steve continued as if Sam hadn’t spoken. “‘He’s here, give him some space.’ That’s it. No ‘sorry.’ No ‘how are you feeling?’ Just give _Bucky_ his fucking space.”

Steve scoffed, feeling mean as he went on, “The worst thing isn’t even that she was pretending to be my friend, the worst thing is that I _believed_ her. I should have known better.” 

“Steve, I do say this as your friend. Shut the fuck up.” 

Steve’s eyes snapped up to look at Sam. 

“I get that you’re hurt, but you _know_ Natasha. Letting you know where Bucky is is her way of showing you she cares. You saying you’d rather he was out there alone? With no one to look after him?” 

“Well, no but--”

“But shit, Steve. Natasha doesn’t care about Bucky _like that_ and even if she did, she’d never do that to you. Besides you, she’s the best person to keep an eye on him, _not_ that he needs it.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Nothing.” Sam shook his head and stood up. “I just wanted to let you know that we’re here for you. And I’m sorry for what you’re going through. Let me know when you’re ready to talk.” Sam clapped Steve on the shoulder before heading out the front door, leaving Steve alone in his living room feeling like an asshole. 

Sam was right, he realized. Natasha was the best person Bucky could turn to for help besides himself. Then again, he supposed now it was _before_ himself. The realization opened a fresh wound on a slow healing gash.

He had to talk to Bucky. He had to figure out what this was really about. He picked up his phone and texted Bucky a simple “Can we talk?” 

He watched the speech bubbles appear and disappear for five minutes before a message came back. 

_I don’t think that’s a good idea_. 

Steve put his running shoes on. 

\--

Eventually his new routine got the better of him. He was tired of the whole song and dance. He was tired of acting like anything made sense anymore. Like he gave a damn. 

One day he looked around the apartment, the one he and Bucky had picked out together. He saw the spaces where Bucky was missing and suddenly jumped up. He couldn’t be in this room a second longer. He was just going to go for a drive. 

He grabbed his phone, wallet and keys before heading to the parking garage. He looked at his bike, but instead hopped in the Land Rover. 

He pulled out onto the street, breaking several traffic laws as he did so, and headed for the expressway. When he saw signs that proclaimed he was entering New Jersey, he finally turned the radio on and pressed down a little more on the gas. He’d turn around when he reached Pennsylvania, he thought. 

He ignored the “you are now entering Pennsylvania” sign. When he stopped for gas and a restroom break in Harrisburg, he decided to turn around at the border. When he crossed the narrow border from West Virginia to Ohio, he pretended he didn’t know where he was going and kept driving in the dark down I-70. 

Finally, after the sun had started to rise and he saw signs that stated he was entering Columbus, he pulled off at the exit and stopped in the parking lot of a McDonald’s. He turned the radio off and took out his phone. There were a few texts that were work related, a thread from what was a clearly sleep-deprived Tony, and one more sympathetic from Sam. Still nothing from Bucky. 

He ignored them all and instead opened the map app. He checked his distance and the time to the destination he was still pretending he wasn’t headed for. He had over a day of drive time left, but if he drove through the night he could be there by 10 the next morning. 

He got out of the car, threw his hat and shades on, and went into the McDonald’s. He used the bathroom, then choked down three McMuffin’s and four hash browns that he threw up in some bushes in the parking lot. When he stopped to get gas again, he grabbed a few water bottles, blistering hot coffee, and some power bars. 

And he drove. He drove in silence when the radio became too much, and he turned the radio on when the silence became too much. He didn’t see anything but the road in front of him or the asphalt left behind him. He drove through Indiana, Illinois, and on until New Mexico. It was still dark, but he knew the sun had risen in Brooklyn. 

He thought briefly about stopping at whatever the petrified forest was because it seemed fitting, but kept driving, finally seeing signs announcing how far his destination was. There was no denying where he was headed now. 

He paid the entrance fee, parked the car, and then set his head on the steering wheel, taking deep calming breaths. He thought about turning around, about driving back to Brooklyn and not going to see the canyon. They had planned to see this together, but somehow they’d never gotten around to it. Now Steve was here alone, having driven out here chasing something he wasn’t sure he ever had in the first place. 

But he’d come all this way. There had to be a reason. Taking a final calming breath, he got out of the car and headed for the canyon. He walked up to the edge, looked out at the empty space between him and the other side, and immediately had to look away. It was too much all at once. 

So he turned and walked along the canyon’s edge to a spot that wasn’t completely overrun by people and sat down. 

When he was ready, he faced the canyon again. He thought about how many times he had almost died, about the time when he was sure he had died, only to have that time not be true either. He thought of the people he had lost; his mother, the Commandos, Peggy, Bucky…

He thought about how long his life had been, how much longer he still had left. He looked at the canyon and felt small. He didn’t feel like Captain America, and he certainly didn’t feel like that kid from Brooklyn who was too dumb to run away from a fight. He felt like Steve, just a man who was passing through. 

But mostly he thought of Bucky, the way he’d smiled at Steve when he left. The way his eyes looked when he was truly smiling, the way his lips felt on Steve’s, his nose pressed against Steve’s neck, his hands on his hips, the way their fingers tangled together. How happy he was. How happy he thought _they_ were. 

Things hadn’t been perfect between them. He could admit that they fought a lot, but they always had. They fought about the normal couple things, the dishes, an impulse buy, why did you say that thing in front of our friends? 

Then there were old arguments. Bucky would get upset about Steve running himself into the ground just to prove that he was alive and Steve would shout back that Bucky just wanted Steve to stay home where Bucky could shelter him and coddle him and keep him dependent on Bucky. What was new in this century was the argument going both ways. 

They often fought about Steve treating Bucky like he was going to snap back into the Winter Soldier with one wrong move, how careful he could be around him. He had never outright said Steve was smothering him, but it had been heavily implied.

But it wasn’t like that, Steve thought. He just wanted to make sure Bucky was okay, to keep him safe. After everything, Bucky deserved peace; he deserved to have someone else worry about him, to take care of him like he’d always done for Steve. 

Steve didn’t mean to smother. He tried to give Bucky his space. But he could admit that maybe he hadn’t been the best at it. 

Steve stared into the canyon until his eyes blurred over with his tears. What the fuck was he doing? Sitting on the edge of the Grand Canyon without Bucky when they had promised they’d come together. God, he’d done this to them, hadn’t he? He’d been selfish and greedy and the more he thought about it, the clearer it became that Bucky had made the right decision to leave. 

Steve let himself cry until the sun started its descent into the afternoon sky. Then he picked up his phone and dropped his location to Sam. He received a pair of wings back and set his phone down. 

Two hours later he heard the soft crunch of gravel under boots. 

“You know I’ve been here before, but I still don’t get the appeal.” 

“It’s majestic,” Steve told him without turning around. “No man did this. Just time and the unrelenting force of a river.” Sam sat down next to him and Steve continued. “When we were kids, we had this book of the wonders of America. When we were reading about this place, my ma said that I was just like the Colorado River. That even though it had started out a small stream it created something bigger than itself, no matter how many rocks had gotten in its way.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Sam said, leaning back onto his palms. “That why you came out here?”

“I don’t know,” Steve whispered. “I don’t know. I just drove and I ended up here. He’d always wanted to come here. We were supposed to come together. Guess I just… I don’t know, I thought it would have answers.” 

“Did it?” 

“Yeah,” Steve’s voice cracked. “This is all my fault, Sam, I pushed him away.” 

“Look, man, I’m not going to tell you that you didn’t do anything wrong or not to blame yourself or whatever. Y’all love each other, everyone knows that. But sometimes shit like this happens. Sometimes you can love someone and it still doesn’t work. But I will say there’re two people in a relationship and both of y’all have a lot of baggage.”

“I guess you’re right. I guess it was foolish to think that we could still work after all this time.”

“Whoa, hey,” Sam cut him off. “I get that you’re in your feelings right now, but I didn’t say all that.”

“So, what are you saying?” 

“I’m saying you both got shit to work on, and yeah you could have worked on it together, but clearly that didn’t happen. Maybe it’s not the right time. Maybe it won’t ever be the right time, I don’t know, but whatever it is that you think you did wrong, maybe take this time to work on that.” 

Steve nodded and looked out at the canyon again. Sam moved to sling his arm around Steve. He leaned into the touch and allowed himself a few silent tears before he sat up straight. 

“What would you say to a road trip?” Steve asked Sam as they headed to the parking lot. 

“I’d say you need a shower, but I’m game.” Sam jerked his head toward the quinjet parked at the far end of the parking lot. “Gotta send that thing back though.” 

“What did you say to get Tony to lend you one?” Steve asked as he took his phone out and tapped a few buttons. Moments later the quinjet started up and prepared for take-off. 

“I didn’t say anything,” Sam replied with a mischievous grin. 

Steve laughed for the first time in a while and clapped Sam on the shoulder as they made their way to the car. 

“Hey,” Sam said as he got into the passenger seat. “I’ve always wanted to see Mt. Rainier. You ever been?” 

Steve shook his head as he started up the car. “Hey, Jarvis, what’s the best way to get to Mt. Rainier?” 

JARVIS routed a course for them as Sam fiddled with the radio. maybe Steve didn’t feel better just yet, but this was a start. 

_“Your eyes, nose, lips  
_ _Your touch that used to touch me_  
_To the ends of your fingertips  
_ _I can still feel you”_


	2. Love you to death

_ “Do you think my heart is okay?  
_ _ Do you think I won’t bleed if I get pricked?” _

Bucky pretended not to notice the way Natasha was studying him over her coffee cup. She hadn’t asked any questions since he showed up around a week ago, but he had a feeling that was about to end right then. 

It had been an easy decision to come to her. Bucky knew she’d keep Steve at bay and she wouldn’t ask too many questions, to a point. He could have gotten a hotel or left the country, but Steve would have just come chasing after him. Besides, he didn’t exactly trust himself to be alone right now. If Natasha wasn’t there to keep him in check, he’d just go running right back to Steve. 

He finished putting the gun he’d been cleaning back together, set it down on the coffee table and reached for the next one. It was then that Natasha spoke. 

“He hasn’t spoken to me at all, you know.” 

“I’m sorry.” And he was. He wasn’t trying to drive a wedge between Steve and Natasha, but in all honesty, he didn’t know who else he could turn to. Normally he’d turn to Steve. 

“Not what I meant.” 

Bucky sighed and leaned back into the couch. “He sent me a text.” 

“What did he say?” 

“That he wanted to talk.” Bucky looked up at the ceiling. “I told him it wasn’t a good idea.” Natasha made a noise that meant she wanted Bucky to explain, but he didn’t feel much like explaining. Instead, he sat back up and picked the cleaned gun up off the table, holstering it under his pant leg. 

He stood up and started for the door, intending to be anywhere except under Natasha’s unwavering gaze. 

“Yasha,” she said softly as he passed her. He stopped but didn’t turn and neither did she. “What are you hoping to get out of all of this?” 

He didn’t have an answer, and he knew she didn’t expect one. So he walked out of the apartment, no particular destination in mind. Out on the street, he blended into his surroundings, becoming another faceless New Yorker in the crowd as he made his way down the steps to the subway. 

Since he’d left his and Steve’s apartment he’d spent a lot of time riding the subway, watching people, trying to imagine where they were coming from, where they were going. Sometimes he’d subtly mimic their movements, pretending that he could mold himself into them, instead of whoever the fuck he woke up as that morning. 

It never worked for long; the illusion always shattered when he clocked a potential threat and planned out how he’d take them down. Normal people on the subway wouldn’t be able to kill someone in cold blood without anyone noticing. 

Today Bucky decided to get off at Bergen Street when a woman at the end of the car started shooting him meaningful looks. When he saw signs for the library he decided on a whim to go there instead of wandering aimlessly around Prospect Park. 

It still gave him a little thrill to just  _ decide _ to do something in the moment. If he wanted to, he could turn around right now and not go to the library. He could go to the Shake Shack down the street and buy one of everything, or he could get into a taxi and take it to JFK and fly to Bora Bora. He could choose what he wanted and when he wanted and how he wanted and no one could tell him he couldn’t, not Hydra, not Shield, not Captain Philips, not even Steve. 

Bucky felt a twinge of guilt at that. He knew Steve meant well, that he was just trying to help Bucky, to keep him safe, but… He didn’t want to think about it right now. Instead, he was going to go into the library and find some dime sci-fi novel to read  _ for fun. _ And maybe afterward he _ would _ go order everything at Shake Shack. He didn’t have to decide right now. 

What he loved about the library was that unlike the people he pretended to be on the subway, he really could be anyone here. Everyone minded their business and no one looked at him twice if he found a dark corner in a stairwell to sit in and read, as long as he was enough out of the way. 

In the sci-fi section, he picked out a book that looked the most well worn and decided to chance it with a chair out in the open today. He could always move if it became too much. 

He settled in and was able to lose himself in the story until halfway through when the hero yelled for the love interest to save themselves, to leave them to die. Without warning, Bucky was pulled back to the present moment, the din of the library suddenly too loud, the air stuffy and uncomfortable. 

He tried to shake it off and continue reading but he kept thinking about how Steve had said the same dumb thing to him once. But he couldn’t really blame him, seeing as Bucky had replied the same way the love interest had. 

After he’d read the same sentence four times he gave up. He got up and set the book onto a return cart and left the library, fully intending on making good on his earlier Shake Shack plans. But while he was waiting to cross the street, he spotted an all too familiar figure running down Union clearly heading for the park. 

Bucky wanted to turn and run the other way but he was rooted to the spot. Even from a distance, he could see the hard set of Steve’s mouth, the dullness of his eyes. How long had Steve been running? Their apartment was nowhere near here and it didn’t look like Steve was planning on stopping anytime soon. 

God, Steve looked miserable. Bucky knew he probably was, that it’d take time for Steve to realize this was a good thing, but seeing it in person was completely different than imagining it. Watching Steve run down the street, heading straight for Bucky, but not seeing him suddenly had Natasha’s words from earlier ringing in his ears. 

_ What was he hoping to get out of this?  _

The light changed and Bucky crossed the street before Steve got to him. He abandoned his Shake Shack plans and got on the bus that was coming to a stop on the other side of the street. As the bus pulled away, Bucky watched Steve cross the street and disappear into the park.

In a moment of weakness, he took his phone out and opened his texts to his chat with Steve. The contact name was still “Stevie 💕” a joke that Natasha had programmed into his phone after she found out he’d had Steve listed under “Steven G. Rogers.” He’d never changed it, because he secretly liked it. But seeing it now was a cold bucket of water over whatever ill-fated plan he had in regards to texting Steve. 

Steve wasn’t his Stevie anymore. That was a decision that _Bucky_ had made. And it was the best decision for _both_ of them, even if it did hurt like hell. In time, Steve would see that Bucky was right. He’d move on and find someone who could love him the way he deserved to be loved. In a way that Bucky clearly couldn’t.

He closed his phone and shoved it in his pocket before getting off at the next stop. 

Natasha didn’t bring Steve up again in the next few days and then she was called out, which left Bucky alone in her apartment. Without her there, he felt even more like an intruder.

Feeling antsy, Bucky left the apartment and went back to Brooklyn. He’d never wanted to see their old place before, but now he felt like he had to. The streets around their old building were familiar. Somehow their old grocer was still in business, and it still had Steve’s hand-painted sign above it. He ducked inside and found it to be a lot smaller than he remembered, but just like all stores in the 21st century, the shelves were bursting. It was nice, he supposed, to see the place stand the test of time, even if it had changed so much.

He grabbed an overpriced Coke and paid for it. On his way out he noticed a plastic glass case and in it, there were a few pictures he recognized. One was of Steve and Mr. Alan, the store owner standing in front of the building the day they hung Steve’s sign up. He remembered the day he and Steve had delivered the sign. Bucky had come during his lunch break at the docks to help Steve haul it down to Mr. Alan and then he’d had to stick around to help Mr. Alan hang it up. 

He’d nearly gotten fired that day for being so late back to work, but the look on Steve’s face when they’d hung the sign up was worth it. He remembered telling Steve that this was just the beginning. That one day soon, he’d be hanging something in the Met and everyone in the world was going to see how talented he was. 

There was another photo of Steve in his uniform, after the serum, a standard trading card, and there was even one of Bucky in his dress greens before he’d shipped out. But then there was a photo he’d never seen before. It must have been taken the day they’d hung the signup. There was Mr. Alan standing alone in front of the store, but in the back, he could see himself and Steve. 

His younger self was in his undershirt and suspenders, an arm thrown around Steve’s shoulders, looking down at him. Steve was looking right back at him, their grins mirroring each other. 

His first through was horror. How could they have been so careless? How had anyone seen this photo and not come bursting through the door to haul them to jail? It was so obvious how much they loved each other, so why, he wondered, had it taken so long after this photo for them to admit it? Looking at that photo, it was no wonder Steve hadn’t given up on him. 

Bucky glanced around the store. Finding no one paying him any attention, he quickly picked the lock on the plastic case, and snatched the photo. 

He never did make it to their apartment. 

—

“We’re going out on Friday,” Natasha announced from Bucky’s bedroom door. “To Stark’s.” 

“No thank you,” Bucky said without looking up from his book. 

“It’s Pepper’s birthday, and she invited you. It’d be rude not to go.” 

Bucky set his book down to look at her. “She wouldn’t want me to come if I was going to be uncomfortable. Which I will be.” 

“Why is that?” 

Bucky’s scowl was answer enough. He picked his book back up. 

“Look, you’ve got a week to prepare to see him, but you can’t spend the rest of your life hiding in your bedroom so you can avoid facing the reality of your decisions.” 

When Bucky looked up, he expected to see her looking frustrated. Instead she seemed sad, but it didn’t seem to be entirely directed at him. He sighed. 

“He knows I’m coming?” She nodded. “Fine. I’ll go.” 

“Knew you’d see it my way.” With that, she left.

Bucky spent the next week trying to put Friday out of his mind. When the day finally came, he was nervous enough that Natasha took pity on him and promised she’d give him an out at the party as long as he at least wished Pepper a happy birthday. 

Pepper greeted them as soon as they stepped off the elevator. 

“Bucky, Natasha, thank you so much for coming!” She leaned in and hugged them both. “Bucky you look so handsome! I love this shirt on you.” 

“Thanks,” Natasha answered for him. “I picked it out.” 

Bucky frowned. “I  _ bought _ it, though.” 

Natasha rolled her eyes. “I’m going to get a drink. Happy birthday, Pepper.” 

“Thank you!” Pepper laughed and then turned to Bucky. “You guys are cute.” 

The line threw Bucky for a moment, but he recovered as best he could and gave her a tight smile. “Happy birthday.” 

“Oh, thank you!” She put her hand on his shoulder and guided him towards a table laden with finger foods, obviously sensing how unsure he felt without Natasha there. “You have to try these crab cakes, they are divine.” 

“Uh, thanks,” Bucky mumbled, taking the proffered plate and holding it out for her to place the crab cakes on. 

Bucky wracked his brain for something intelligent or funny or interesting to say, but everything was coming up goose eggs. He used to be good at this, he’d been told. He had been charming and funny, and girls and guys alike would crowd around him just to hear what he had to say. Now the host of the party had to babysit him by feeding him crab cakes because he was too awkward to do it himself. 

“You know,” Pepper began, placing food onto Bucky’s plate. “I was so sad to hear about you and Steve, but I suppose sometimes things just don’t work out.” 

“Uhm.” 

Pepper continued on, “But now when I see you with Natasha and Steve with Thor, well, I am happy that you two are moving on. It’s good to see you both doing well.” 

“What?” Bucky asked dumbly. Steve and Thor? Steve was seeing Thor? And Natasha hadn’t told him? He supposed he didn’t have any right to know, but he had thought she’d mention it. Or at least Wilson would have. Hell, even Tony might have called to rub it in his face. But it’d only been a few weeks…how could Steve have moved on that easily? 

He stammered out, “Natasha and I aren’t—I mean we’re friends. I’ve just been staying with her since me and Steve…but Steve and Thor?”

Pepper stopped mid-way through putting a stuffed mushroom cap onto Bucky’s plate. “Oh! I’m sorry, I just saw you two together and it seemed like…well, come to think of it, I don’t really know about Steve and Thor either.” 

She suddenly started putting more food onto Bucky’s plate. “It was just, I’ve been seeing them together a lot recently and they seem like they get along. I mean I don’t know if anything is happening there, I just thought it looked like—Oh, shit! I’ve really put my foot in it now. I’m sorry Bucky, I have had a few drinks and my mouth tends to get away from me.” 

At this point, stuffed mushroom caps were falling off the side of Bucky’s plate. He reached out and put his hand on her wrist to still her. She stopped and looked up at him, a small smile on her face. “It’s okay,” he told her. “If Steve’s moved on, that’s a good thing.” 

She nodded. “I mean, I really don’t know. I just assumed. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be. It’s your birthday. Go have fun.” 

She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks, Bucky.” He watched as she walked towards Tony who was doing his best impression of being intimidating without the suit. Bucky flipped him off and shoved a mushroom cap into his mouth. 

It was then that he caught sight of Steve. He was outside on the balcony, with Wilson and Thor. They were all laughing and Steve looked carefree in a way Bucky couldn’t remember ever seeing him. It hurt more than he would have liked. 

Then Steve’s gaze flicked to him and Bucky prepared himself for the inevitably awkward conversation he was about to have now that Steve knew he was there. But then, Steve just waved at him, giving him a small half smile through the glass. Wilson and Thor turned to do the same, but no one moved. Steve stayed where he was and continued talking to his friends. To his new  _ boyfriend _ . 

Something icy and mean twisted its way up Bucky’s spine as he realized that Steve had moved on, that Bucky had been right all along. Bucky was the one that wanted this, he was the one that ended things, so there was no reason for whatever it was that he was feeling. Except for the fact that he was stupidly, selfishly, still in love with Steve. 

Bucky set the plate down and immediately headed for the elevators. He caught Natasha’s attention and signaled that he was leaving. He must have looked worse than he thought because Natasha extracted herself from a conversation with Sharon Carter and followed him. 

In the elevator, she pressed the button for the floor that was reserved for her when she needed to stay at the tower. They didn’t speak until they got off the elevator. 

“Were you ever going to tell me he was seeing Thor?”

Natasha regarded him for a moment before she said, “What would it have mattered? You broke up with him.” 

Bucky almost flinched at that. “I know. But I still would have liked to know.” 

“Why? What good would it have done, other than maybe getting your head out of your ass.” 

He was floundering now. “ _ What _ ?” 

She sighed and sat down on a stool next to the kitchen island. “Why did you break up with him?”

“It wasn’t going to work out,” he said, hoping she would leave it at that and knowing she wouldn’t. 

“You could at least pretend to give me a real answer.” 

Bucky gnashed his teeth and went to stand and look out the window. He was frustrated with Natasha for not telling him about Steve and for this apparent heart to heart they were going to have. He was hurt that Steve had moved on so quickly, and he was angry at himself for feeling anything about it at all. 

“Yasha.” 

“I’m not him,” he said finally. “I’m not the Bucky Banes he fell in love with, and sometimes that’s okay. Sometimes I can pretend to be him enough to trick Steve into thinking he’s still here. But I can’t do it every day, and on the days I can’t the way he looks at me…He spends so much time trying to help me remember or making sure I’m comfortable that nothing inconveniences me and sometimes I just can’t stand it. It wears him down, chasing after that Bucky, trying to keep me safe from myself, saving the world day after day. It’s just not fair to him to wait for someone who isn’t coming back. The Bucky he loved is gone, and I won’t be the reason he’s unhappy anymore.” 

Natasha was quiet for so long that Bucky almost thought she left. Finally, when he couldn’t stand the silence any longer, he turned around to look at her. Her gaze was unwavering, but Bucky had faced down worse, so he looked straight back at her. 

“He’s not the same man he once was either, you know.” 

Bucky sighed. “I know.” 

“I don’t think you do,” she cut in quickly. “I’m not saying he didn’t have his faults, we all know he can be a little…protective. But you don’t know what it was like before he found out you were alive. 70 years ago he thought you were dead and crashed a plane into the ocean and he woke up in the future and found out that the fight never ended. You think that doesn’t do something to a person?” 

He frowned. “I’m not saying he hasn’t, I’m just saying--”

“I know what you’re saying. I’ve heard it before, said it before. Maybe you think he doesn’t understand you know, maybe you think there’s no way he could, that he wishes you weren’t so broken and hard to love, because if you weren’t you wouldn’t be such a burden, but he’s  _ never _ been happier than when he’s been with you. You can do with that information what you will, but don’t delude yourself into thinking that you’re doing it for  _ his _ sake.” 

She slid off the stool. “I’m going back upstairs, so I’ll see you at home.” 

She was just stepping into the elevator when she called, “By the way, Steve isn’t seeing Thor. They’re just friends.” 

Bucky stared at the closed elevator doors for a long time before he went over and pressed the button to head back to Natasha’s apartment. 

—

Eventually, Bucky decided it was time for him to get out of Natasha’s hair. 

“You don’t need to leave,” she told him.

That was as good as he was going to get to a gilded invitation to stay from her, but he needed to get out on his own. 

“Thanks,” he told her. “But I think this is for the best.” 

“Men always do,” was all she said as she went to her room. 

It was unsurprisingly frustrating trying to rent an apartment, but as soon as he put down “The Avengers” as a reference, the name James Barnes started clicking and his rental application was approved overnight. 

He couldn’t bring himself to move back to Brooklyn and instead chose a place on the Lower East Side. That was as close as he would allow himself. 

Bucky didn’t have much in the way of belongings, but he still avoided packing until the last minute. The night before he was set to move in, he started to box up his things, with Natasha sitting on his bed, talking to him, and not helping at all. 

“When’s the house warming?” she asked as he started folding his clothes. 

He snorted. “Let me move in first.” 

“I know a great decorator if you’re interested.” 

“I can decorate my own apartment. I did Steve’s and mine,” he said without thinking. 

“I always thought that was Steve,” she mused. “He’s an artistic sort of guy.” 

Bucky shook his head. “Nah, Steve’s got an eye for detail, but he’s not always able to see the big picture.” 

Natasha hummed and Bucky quickly changed the subject before she decided she had anything insightful to say. 

The first night in his new apartment, Bucky couldn’t fall asleep. All he could think about was how even this small place was too big for just him, the bed was too empty, the place was too quiet, it didn’t smell right. But in the morning, he got out of bed and he went to Home Depot and bought some paint and a Chinese Evergreen and that helped some. 

Time passed quickly after that first night. He threw himself into decorating, the task keeping his mind occupied almost anytime he was awake. He found himself reading about color theory and feng shui, balance and rhythm and he was excited to try new styles and sometimes the things in his head didn’t always translate on to his walls, but then he could just try again. 

Natasha was the first person to come see his new place. 

“Wow, you weren’t kidding when you said you knew how to decorate,” she remarked. “You can do my place next.” 

He felt a flush of embarrassment and pride and when he smiled bashfully at her she knocked her shoulder against his. It wasn’t often he was praised for being good at something he liked to do. 

He found a cat in the alley, a mangy little thing that fought him the whole way but now curled up on him when he sat down for more than a minute. He still sparred with Natasha and went shooting with Clint. He had met a woman in the bookstore and they had become sort of friends and now he was part of a sci-fi book club and once he and Wilson even went for coffee and somehow managed not to talk about Steve at all. 

Some nights were better than others. When he knew nightmares were the only thing that awaited him, he would lie in bed and wonder what Steve was doing. He missed him, and even though he could admit that to himself that he hadn’t been fair to Steve, he wasn’t ready to admit it out loud. The thought of letting Steve back into his life now was as appealing as it was anxiety inducing and no matter how much he missed him, he couldn’t put them back into a situation where the same outcome was inevitable.

Some nights were so bad he would think about picking up the phone and calling Steve, just to make sure he was really free and that this was real and not some elaborate Hydra ruse. But then Alpine would meow and get his attention and he would put on his mindfulness app and try to ground himself. 

And maybe he wasn’t  _ completely _ happy, but honestly, he couldn’t remember what happiness on his own felt like. His therapist thought he was doing well; he had his decorating, and his cat, and he was trying to re-create his ma’s War Cake. But he could look around his apartment at his life, at his friends and he could say he was okay.

Maybe that wasn’t much, but for him it was  _ something _ . 

  
  


_ “If wanting you who doesn’t want me is my destiny  
_ _ I’m gonna love you to death” _


	3. Stay with me

_ “Let yourself stay  
_ _ In this moment without a word  
_ _ When tonight passes, a new day will start  
_ _ I only have you,  
_ _ You’re my only love  
_ _ Hey, don’t hesitate and just as you are, stay with me” _

  
  


Steve walked into the cafe and spotted Natasha in a booth playing on her phone. She looked up and he nodded to the counter, then went to order. While he waited for his order, he steeled himself for what was likely going to be a very awkward conversation. Coffee in hand, he made his way over and sat down on the opposite side of her. 

“Well, hey there stranger,” she said as he slid in. He winced a little at the greeting, knowing it was deserved but still hard to hear. He knew he hadn’t been as close with her since….everything, but he had some shit to sort through and at the time he really didn’t know how to handle his relationship with her when Bucky had been staying with her. Then after the initial adjustment period, he was so embarrassed about how he had acted toward her, even privately, he wasn’t sure how to face her. 

“Hey, Nat. How’ve you been?” 

She hummed and rested her chin on her hand. “I’ve been better.” Steve blinked. He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard her say something so straight forward in regards to herself. She continued at Steve’s obvious confusion. “See, I have this friend, and I thought he and I were really close. Close enough that he wouldn’t cut me out if I did something he disagreed with, but it seems like I was wrong. He basically stopped talking to me and only asked me out for coffee when our other friend pushed him to.” 

Steve felt his face flush. “You’re not pulling any punches, are you?” 

“I don’t normally, with my friends,” she replied. 

Steve hung his head, too ashamed to look at her directly for the moment, and tried to find the right words to apologize to her. He wondered if there was really anything he  _ could _ say to get her to forgive him at this point, but then again she had agreed to coffee, so that had to be something. 

He picked his head up and looked her in the eye. “I’m so sorry, Natasha, I shouldn’t have cut you out like that. I know you know I was struggling and while that’s not an excuse for my behavior, I hope it offers some insight into it. I was wrong to treat you like that, and I’m embarrassed by my actions. Do you think you could forgive me?” 

Her eyebrows, which had been slowly moving up her forehead during his speech were now at her hairline. “You got a telepathic connection to Wilson or something? Because that’s 100% him.” 

“I might have been reading some books he recommended,” Steve admitted. 

“I think I could forgive you if you could try that again without the ghostwrite.” 

Steve rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Nat, I’m sorry was an asshole when you were just being a good friend. Can you forgive me?” 

She hummed again. “I suppose I could be persuaded to.” 

“Oh?” 

“I have a wheel of cheese being held by customs and it seems my name doesn’t hold enough weight for them to release it, but I’m sure if  _ Captain America  _ asked…”

Steve laughed. “Done.” She smiled at him for real then, and he smiled back. “I really am sorry Nat. I have missed you.” 

“I know,” she said. “Me too. But you look like you’re doing well.” 

“I’m good,” he replied. “I’ve been better, but things are…surprisingly good.” 

And it was true. Sure he still missed Bucky, every day, but his life had settled into something that resembled normal. He had been able to take a step back from his Captain America duties, focusing on training new recruits, delegating missions as appropriate instead of jumping into the field at the first sign of trouble. He was seeing his therapist regularly, he was painting again, he was sleeping for more than five hours at a time, he was even planning a vacation. He was going to take a walking tour around some major European cities to see how they’d changed since he’d last been, but mostly to see all the art he hadn’t had a chance to the first time around. 

“I’m glad to hear that.” 

He didn’t ask how Bucky was and she didn’t offer. Instead, they talked about Steve’s upcoming trip, Natasha’s last visit out to Clint’s farm and every single dumb injury he’d gotten. They bitched about Tony’s latest fixation on how to improve the Avengers and joked about how Thor had somehow gotten himself stuck in a tree with  Mjölnir last week. 

It was nice and Steve regretted having waited so long to reach out to her. He really had missed his friend. 

When they parted ways, Steve hugged her and she squeezed him back. They made plans to get the group together for a beach weekend soon. 

Walking back to his apartment, Steve felt lighter than he had in a long time. 

— 

Somehow the beach trip actually got off the ground and Tony flew them all up to Rhode Island to enjoy a private stretch of beach. Steve was excited until he saw Bucky chatting with Natasha on the Quinjet landing pad. 

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen Bucky since their break up, but he had managed to avoid interacting with him directly. He’d only spoken to him once a few weeks ago at something Sam had put together. He could handle being around his ex. He just wished someone had informed him that Bucky was coming so he could mentally prepare to do it. 

Natasha and Bucky both caught sight of him at the same time, and he gave an awkward little wave. 

“I’ll see you two on the jet,” Natasha said as she walked away. 

“Uh, hi,” Steve said politely. 

“Yeah, hey,” Bucky replied, looking tense. “Um, how are you?”

“Good, good, yeah, good,” Steve answered and then hated himself. “I said good too many times so it sounds like a lie but it’s not.” 

Bucky laughed then and it felt so good to hear that Steve laughed too. Suddenly the tension was broken and Bucky was smiling at him. “I didn’t think it was, punk.” 

“Jerk,” Steve replied with a grin so wide it hurt his face. “You look good.” 

“Thanks, so do you.” 

Tony shouted that the jet was leaving with or without them and so they hustled on. There were only two seats left, so they had no choice but sit next to each other, but Steve found he didn’t really mind. 

They made polite small talk during the ride that turned into an actual conversation and by the time they got to the hotel they were staying at for the weekend, Steve didn’t want to part ways. But they were at opposite ends of the hallway, so Steve reluctantly told Bucky he’d see him later and went into his room. 

Steve was just about to leave to head down the beach when there was a knock on his door. “One sec!” 

Steve opened it and Sam strolled in. “Dude, what was that!”

“I don’t know what you mean.” 

“Nah, man I saw you with Bucky. You guys looked like you were having a nice conversation.” 

“We were,” Steve said. “It was just a conversation.” 

“Mhm,” Sam hummed knowingly and Steve scowled at him. The last thing he wanted was to have everyone hounding him about getting back together with Bucky when that couldn’t be further from the truth. They had had  _ one _ conversation. 

“What about you and Natasha, hmm?” Steve turned back on him. “You seemed awfully close on the jet.” 

Sam grinned at him. “I know. You think I got a chance with her? I feel like she’s been sending me signals, but she’s a little hard to read.” 

All of Steve’s annoyance left at once and he rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Sam, I think you got a chance.” 

They headed down to the beach together to join the others and Steve pretended like he didn’t notice that Bucky wasn’t there yet. They set up next to Natasha, and Steve was sure to let Sam sit next to her. 

After a while with no Bucky in sight, Steve went to play some version of beach volleyball with Thor, Clint, and Wanda, while Pepper cheered them on and Tony attempted to man the grill, while Bruce supervised. 

Steve was so caught up in the game that he didn’t notice Bucky come down. So when they took a break, he was surprised to find Bucky’s towel next to his. Bucky was shirtless, laid out soaking up the sun looking like the cover of some men’s magazine. Steve tried not to stare, but he knew he was doing a poor job of it if the eyebrow waggling Clint was attempting was anything to go by. 

As he approached, Bucky raised up onto his elbow and frowned. 

“Hey,” Steve said cautiously, dropping down onto his towel. Why was Bucky looking at him like that? Steve’s stuff was there first. 

Even though Bucky was wearing sunglasses, Steve could see his eyes narrow. “You’re not wearing sunscreen, are you?”

“Huh?” Steve said a little off guard. “I mean no. You know that I’ll just burn anyway, Buck, and it’s not like serum won’t take care of it.” 

Bucky’s frown deepened. “And  _ you _ know that it hurts significantly less when you do put it on.” Before Steve could say another word Bucky was sitting up completely, grabbing a bottle of sunscreen. “Turn around,” he ordered and Steve did as he was told without thinking. 

He heard Bucky squirt some sunscreen into his palm and then his hands were on Steve’s bare back, cool and familiar. 

“You’re already pinking up back here,” Bucky muttered. “I don’t know why you don’t just get the spray kind if you hate putting it on so much.” 

“It smells,” Steve complained while Bucky massaged it into his back and then started on his shoulders and arms. 

“Oh you poor baby, your poor super nose is sensitive.” 

“Shut up,” Steve gripped, trying not to think about the way Bucky’s hands moved over his body. 

“Here,” he said when he was done, shoving the bottle into Steve’s hands. “You can do your front and legs.” 

Steve took the bottle and said, “Thanks, Buck.” 

“Anytime, punk.” Bucky laid back down and when Steve looked up, Sam and Natasha were giving him twin looks of mischievousness. He rolled his eyes at them and put the sunscreen on the places Bucky hadn’t before laying down to enjoy the sun himself. 

The group spent the rest of the afternoon playing games, splashing in the water, eating and drinking. Steve was having such a good time with his friends and teammates that he vowed never to pull away from them again. 

That night they all ate a communal table on the hotel roof and then broke off into little groups when the food was done. Somehow Steve ended up talking with Bucky and Bruce, mainly about some old sci-fi novels that Steve only knew about because Bucky had read them to him as a kid when he was too sick and tired to read himself. 

Eventually, Bruce excused himself and left Bucky and Steve on their own. At first, Steve was a little worried without the buffer of Bruce, but the conversation flowed naturally from topic to topic, and they were laughing and joking just like the old days. 

But then Bucky would lean in a little, his shoulder would bump Steve’s, his hand would linger on his thigh, he’d smirk just the right way and Steve’s breath would catch his throat and he’d think  _ this is it _ . Before pushing the thought away. Bucky was just being friendly, nothing more. 

They had been so caught up in conversation that they hadn’t realized they were the only two left on the roof. 

“Oh, I didn’t realize how late it had gotten,” Steve said, blinking dumbly at his phone. 

“Everyone else must have headed downstairs,” Bucky replied looking around the empty rooftop. “I guess we’d better get going too, huh?” 

“Yeah, I guess we’d better,” Steve agreed, but neither of them moved. Steve couldn’t be sure, but he felt like something was happening between him and Bucky right now and he desperately didn’t want to go anywhere until he figured out what it was. Before he could gather enough courage to tell Bucky, Bucky beat him to the punch. 

“Would you maybe want to do this again sometime? Just the two of us, I mean?” 

Steve felt the breath punch out of him. He didn’t know if he’d ever get to hear Bucky say something like this to him, and while he wasn’t about to let this chance go, he needed to be clear on where they stood. “Buck, I’d love to, but I really need to know what you mean by that. You mean hang out as friends or…?” 

Bucky looked a little nervous. “Well, I guess as friends.”

“Oh.” 

He must not have done a very good job at hiding his disappointment, because Bucky added, “For now.” 

“For now?” Steve repeated. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“I mean—shit. I do miss you, Steve, before everything else you’re my best friend. At the very least, if you’re willing, I’d like to hang out with my best friend and if things head in another direction, then…I just don’t want to make any promises I can’t keep right now.” 

Steve had to admit that made sense. They still had a long way to go even trying to be friends again, so focusing on anything beyond that right now probably wasn’t wise. Bucky was right, before anything they had been best friends, and Steve missed that, too. 

“Okay, Bucky, we can try friends.” 

—

The first few times they hung out alone it wasn’t at all comfortable like the beach trip had been. But eventually, Steve couldn’t take it anymore and jumped headfirst into addressing the elephant in the room in the middle of a froyo place. He apologized to Bucky for the way he had treated him when they were still together, that he knew he had been too overbearing, too constricting, and that he was happy that Bucky had finally settled into himself. Bucky apologized for leaving things the way he had, and not talking to Steve, but didn’t go into more detail than that. 

After that, things felt much more natural, and they fell into an easy rhythm. Steve was elated to have his oldest friend back. And soon their friendly hangouts started to feel a little more than friendly. Every time Bucky smiled, or their hands brushed, or Bucky reached up to ruffle Steve’s hair he felt a little spark, Steve thought ‘could Bucky want something more now?’ 

Neither of them spoke about it, but the tension between them was killing Steve. Every morning he woke up and texted Bucky, and every night he fell asleep listening to the sound of Bucky’s voice through the phone wishing that he could just say how he felt, but the words never made it out. 

When he couldn’t stand it anymore, Steve decided he’d test the waters a little. If it backfired, well, the worst thing that would happen is Bucky would have a bunch of sunflowers he didn’t want. 

Steve knocked on the door to Bucky’s apartment and shifted nervously from foot to foot while he waited for Bucky to open the door. 

When the door did open, Bucky raised a brow. “I don’t remember ever bringing any fellas I was friends with flowers.” 

“Oh-uh—,” Steve stammered. He  _ knew _ the flowers were too much. All those lingering touches, the wistful glances, the knowing smiles he thought he saw, now Steve could see he had been reading too much into them. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Steve, I’m joking. I like them. Let me just put them in some water and we can go.” 

Steve didn’t know if he wanted to smack Bucky or kiss him, but later when they were walking through the park, and Bucky laced their fingers together, Steve settled firmly on kiss. 

Over the next few weeks, Steve kept bringing Bucky little gifts when they met up. Bucky bought him sweets wherever they were, ice cream cones and milkshakes, cookies, and slices of cake. Once he even baked Steve a cake, and they sat at Bucky’s kitchen table and ate it. 

They went to museums, the aquarium, movies, and wine and paint classes. They went to Coney Island and kissed at the top of the Ferris wheel, a sweet chaste little thing that left Steve’s lips tingling for hours. They held hands, and hugged, and cuddled on Bucky’s couch while they watched movies. 

It was nice and easy, and Steve was completely content to take it slow. He was happy to have Bucky back in his life anyway Bucky would have him, but sometimes he wished Bucky would give him a clear sign one way or the other of what he really wanted. 

But Steve could wait. For Bucky, he could wait as long as it took. 

—

A pounding on his door in mid-July woke him up around one the morning. Steve was instantly out of bed, and he didn’t bother looking through the peephole before throwing up the door. Very few people knew where he lived anyway. 

On the other side, Bucky was standing there a little wild-eyed and flushed as if he’d been running. 

“Bucky, what’s wrong?” Steve reached out to pull Bucky in, but thought better of it and dropped his hand and Bucky watched the movement with clouded eyes. “Bucky, are you hurt? Please, talk to me. What do you need?” 

“You’re leaving,” Bucky accused. 

Steve blinked. “What?” 

“Natalia. She told me you’re leaving.” 

“Buck, did you run here?” 

“Were you going to tell me you were leaving?” 

“What?” Steve was still trying to wrap his head around what was going on. “Of course I was, but it’s still over a month away.” 

“ _ When _ ? Huh? I thought…I thought we were getting somewhere, Steve, and then to hear from Natalia that you’re just—does this mean nothing to you?” 

Steve had had enough of the mental gymnastics. “Bucky, what the fuck is going on? Why did you  _ run  _ all the way over here to yell at me about going on vacation? Why do you think you have any right to be mad at me about this when  _ you’re _ the one that broke up with me!” 

Bucky froze. “Vacation?” 

Steve sighed. “Could you please come inside so we can talk about this without the neighbors listening in?” 

Bucky nodded and, for the first time since their breakup, walked into the apartment. Steve could see him clocking the changes. Truthfully, not much had changed since Bucky had moved out, but there was significantly more clutter, mostly books and art supplies. 

“Sit,” Steve ordered and Bucky went to the couch without a fight. “Now, could you maybe explain to me what’s got you so upset about me going on vacation?” 

Bucky swallowed and said, “I didn’t realize it was a vacation.” 

Everything clicked into place and Steve whispered, “You thought I was leaving for good. You thought that I’d just up and leave you like that? Bucky, I would  _ never _ do that to you.” 

Bucky flinched. “That’s not fair.” 

“No,” Steve shook his head. “Buck, that’s not what I meant. But even if I  _ did, _ I think I have the right to be upset about how things ended between us. I mean, fuck, one day everything was fine and the next you’re leaving, telling me you’re sorry and you can’t fight for us anymore? And then you have the audacity to show up here and accuse me of not caring about whatever the fuck it is we’re doing? You can’t even say out loud if you truly want to be with me!” 

“I do,” Bucky whispered, but Steve was on a roll now. 

“Jesus, you know I still don’t know what the fuck went wrong with us, because I  _ know _ it wasn’t just me being too much. And as much as I love having you in my life in whatever way you want, I don’t know how much longer I can play this game of maybe we will or maybe we won’t. You’re either in this or you’re not and you need to decide because I think I’ve made my feelings pretty clear.” 

“Steve,” Bucky said louder, standing up to stop Steve’s pacing. “Stevie, I said I do. I want to be with you.” 

Steve faltered. “You do?” 

“Yeah, Steve, I really do.” 

Steve had to sit down. 

“Bucky, I—” There were a million things that Steve wanted to say, but he didn’t know where to start. Of course, Steve still wanted to be with him, but as much as he loved Bucky, he didn’t know if he could handle it if Bucky left him again. And as of now, he wasn’t sure Bucky wouldn’t. “I want that, I do, but I don’t know if I can trust you.” 

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense.” He knelt down beside Steve. “What can I do? How can I show you I mean this?” 

“I don’t know,” Steve answered. “I know you’ve been trying, I guess, but I don’t even know why you left in the first place.” 

Bucky sighed and looked away from Steve for a moment until Steve prompted him again. “When I left I was all kinds of messed up, in my head you know. And I felt like…I felt like you didn’t love me for who am I now, but for who I was then. I felt like you were always trying to get that old Bucky back and anything I did differently than him was a disappointment. I know now part of that was in my head. It was just too much, and I didn’t know how to tell you any of that, especially since I didn’t really know myself at that point either.” 

“Bucky, I’m so sorry,” Steve whispered. “I’m so sorry I made you feel that way. I never meant to—” Steve choked on his words. “I never meant to make you feel like I didn’t love who you are now, or make you feel like I wasn’t proud of you. You could never disappoint me for being yourself, Bucky, never.” 

“Stevie,” Bucky murmured, reaching up to wipe the tears off of Steve’s face. “Sweetheart, don’t cry. I was wrong. I know that now. I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry I told you I wouldn’t fight for you. I got a little lost there for a while, but I’ll never stop fighting for you. For this. You’re what makes this all worth it, you understand, Stevie? And I’ll spend every day I have left on this earth proving that to you if you let me.” 

“Bucky,” Steve whimpered. “I love you so much, please, don’t leave me like that again, please.” 

“I promise. I’ll never let you go like that again.” 

Bucky leaned and kissed Steve’s forehead, his nose, his eyelids, the tears from his cheeks, and then finally his lips. It was a salty kiss from Steve’s tears, but Steve could care less. Bucky tasted like a homecoming. 

“Bucky, please,” Steve whispered. 

Bucky stood up and pulled Steve to his feet, kissing him softly as he led him to the bedroom. Steve let Bucky undress him, watched as he took his own clothes off, and rummaged around the drawer where they had always kept the condoms and lube. When Bucky approached the bed, Steve took the foil packet and tossed it aside. 

“I wanna feel you,” he whispered, scared if he was too loud this would all end. 

“Whatever you want,” Bucky replied. He pulled Steve to the edge of the bed, coated his fingers, and entered him slowly, carefully and worked him open until Steve was a crying begging mess. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Bucky murmured, crowding Steve back up against the pillows. “Missed you so much.” 

Bucky rocked into him slow and sweet, drawing out sounds that he didn’t ever remember making. Steve’s whole body was alight with desire and every thrust sent a swell of pleasure so acute through him it almost ached. 

Bucky kissed him the whole time, and Steve clung to him like a man adrift. When his pleasure finally crested, he cried out Bucky’s name until the word lost all meaning. 

Later, after they had both cleaned up and were holding each other under the sheets, Steve’s head on Bucky’s chest, he asked, “Would you want to come with me? On vacation, I mean.” 

Bucky’s hand continued to card through Steve’s hair as he answered, “I’d love to.” 

—

Their hotel room in Venice was as ornate as it was expensive, but Steve wasn’t worried about the price. It was gorgeous and he couldn’t wait to throw open the balcony doors to let the morning light in and draw the cityscape.

As he was setting his things down Bucky got his attention. “Look at this,” Bucky said, pointing to a record player. “They’ve even got some records here. You think it works?”

“If it didn’t we could still play music on our phones,” Steve pointed out with a laugh. 

“Yeah, but this is more authentic.” Bucky shuffled through the records. “Oh, we know this one, I think.” 

“What is it?” 

“Well, even if we don’t it’s pretty old, so I’m sure it’ll sound familiar.” 

Steve huffed, shuffling through his duffle bag looking for his toothbrush. “Pretty old. Speak for yourself.” 

“Oh, you’re one year younger, Stevie, get over it.” 

Steve stuck his tongue out at Bucky’s back and soon the music started up. Steve didn’t immediately recognize it from the instrumental, but as soon as the singing started Steve groaned. 

“Oh, no, Buck! Not this one!” 

Bucky grinned at him. “What? It’s a classic.” 

“Yeah, classically bad! Any time this song came on at the dance halls you used to serenade whatever poor girl you were dancing with.” 

“What? You jealous I didn’t sing to you?” 

“No,” Steve said with a mulish expression on his face. “Your voice is terrible.” 

“It ain’t either!” Bucky laughed, coming over to pull Steve up. “Come dance with me, Stevie.” 

“I’d rather not,” Steve said, but let himself be pulled up. 

“Don’t step on my toes,” Bucky warned, pulling Steve flush against his chest. Steve very pointedly stepped on Bucky’s left toes. “Punk,” Bucky laughed and kissed him. 

They swayed to the music for a bit and then Bucky’s baritone came rumbling all the way through Steve’s chest. 

“Like getting shut-eye, you are what I need,” Bucky sang and Steve buried his face into Bucky’s neck so he wouldn’t see how emotional he was getting. “Eternally, ohhh! my, you’re getting to be a habit with me.” 

When the record stopped, Steve pulled away to take the needle off the track but Bucky stopped him, a serious look on his face. 

“Bucky?” 

“Stay with me.” 

“Huh?” 

Bucky brought Steve’s left hand up and kissed the knuckle of his ring finger, his eyes never leaving Steve’s. “Stay with me, Steve, stay with me forever.” 

The implication of what Bucky had done, of what he was saying, made Steve’s head spin with delight. “Bucky are you..?” 

“Yeah, I am. Whaddya say, Stevie?” 

“Yes,” Steve breathed before he pulled Bucky in for a kiss. “Yes, I’ll stay with you forever.” 

_ “For worse or for better  _ _   
_ _ Just stay with me forever.”  _

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!


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